


O Swear Not By The Moon

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman - All Media Types, DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Awesome Melissa McCall, BAMF Allison Argent, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Banter, Best Friends, Brooding, Character Death, Chris Argent Feels, Chris Argent tries, Crack Treated Seriously, Crushes, Dark Past, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski Bonding, Derek Hale Blames Himself, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Is So Done, Emergency Medical Technicians, Emotional Baggage, Emotions, Epic Friendship, Evil Victoria Argent, F/M, Firefighters, Gen, Gerard Argent Being an Asshole, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, He's a broody dramatic person who won't know what to do with them if he gets them however, He's also Derek's north star but Derek isn't gonna tell him that, Humor, Hunters & Hunting, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Injury, Internal Conflict, Introspection, Is a two-person pack a thing?, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Medical, Nerdiness, Nicknames, Pack Family, Past Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Past Character Death, Police, Psycho Kate Argent, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski Is So Done, Stakeout, Stiles Stilinski Being an Idiot, Stiles Stilinski Makes Things Better, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski's Jeep's Name is Roscoe, Stiles has it bad you guys, Swearing, Texting, That his son isn't exactly hanging back and being safe..., The best of best friends, Torture, Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent, gadgets and gizmos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22162783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: It's a hard life when you're a werewolf.It's an even harder life when you get some freakish alien powers from a (definitely made-up) planet called Krypton when some old lady casually says you're the next Superman. Yeah, right. Does she KNOW you? Clearly not.But all this happened to Derek Hale a couple of years ago. Now he's alone after a twofold tragedy, trying to do some good. Well, he's not totally alone. He has Stiles. But that fact might make being alone the better option...Or, well. Maybe not.If he loses him....(Or, an alternate universe where Derek Hale is werewolf Superman. Yes, you read that right.)
Relationships: Allison Argent & Lydia Martin, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin, Derek Hale & Scott McCall, Derek Hale & Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Jordan Parrish, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. The Inconstant Moon

Derek Hale has got to be the grumpiest superhero ever.

And that's saying something, because Stiles has met Batman (who is a total badass, and he had to work really hard not to fanboy out but come on, it's BATMAN)! Okay, so Stiles is a nerd. He's also Derek's gadgets person, his lab rat, a position which Stiles has tried really hard to find a better name for. Like strong right hand, maybe. Especially because "All my life has prepared me for this moment, those online fighting roleplay games, yes!" He cries. 

Derek wonders daily what he has gotten himself into.

Of course, this means Stiles is always running out of the lab with some gadget to try and help Derek, and Derek has to fly him back to their base, an old school building with a science lab that Stiles has somewhat converted for their needs. It was given to the city, and then allocated to the police department as overflow housing for first responders sometimes. And THEY had given the lab and a couple classrooms to Derek and Stiles, partly because Derek helps the city, and also because of Stiles' dad being police chief. 

Plus this stuff with Derek is a lot safer for Stiles than being a cop.

Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story idea happened because I caught an episode of "Crisis on Infinite Earths" on the CW yesterday and watched Teen Wolf years previously so of course I saw Superman/Clark Kent (played by Tyler Hoechlin) as Derek Hale. And who better to be his nerdy sidekick than Stiles?
> 
> Hope you like this zany idea, comments are appreciated <3


	2. Sick and Pale With Grief

_"GRENADE!!!"_

That word is shouted with all the intensity of a player in a first-peraon shooter game, if that person's voice sounded like a whistling teakettle. As it is Stiles is screaming high as a little kid in terror as he chucks one of his grenades in the air. Derek, as if in slo-mo, pulls one arm up, holding onto his cape, and slashes at the grenade to bat it at the joker's giant van wherein he's up to no good (no, not the Joker, Batman's nemesis. If it was him, Stiles would have already passed out. No, this joker is somebody else. Someone who knows them both, but apparently not well enough.)

The van explodes and Stiles, even as he's ducking under Derek's muscular body and screaming as the hero lunges and protects him, wrapping his thickset form around his sidekick's much thinner one, takes a millisecond to be proud of himself for making a flash grenade that causes enough damage to knock out a target without collateral. Non-flak grenades are his specialty. Yes, he'd made these weapons himself, and yes he had to THROW them himself because Derek wouldn't do it.

Derek doesn't do a lot of things that Stiles suggests. Like the whole helping kids thing. Stiles wants to do that too, of course he does, save the children--but he also doesn't go crazy every time he meets some kid with a particular name. Not like Derek.

Whenever he finds out that someone's name is Scott, Derek gets all awkwardly paternal and everyone else is confused. He swoops down and picks up this one kid. Totally out of the line of fire by that point. Walking with his mother.

"I'm going to make him a part of my pack," Derek said. "I promise you'll thank me later."

"Pack? Like...do you mean the Justice League or something?" She asks, as with the red cape and bright yellow outlined red S on his chest and everything, that's what you'd think he meant, right?

Wrong.

Derek had stared this lady down, super serious. "...No."

Stiles runs over then. "Hey, he's just joking, ha-ha, saying your son would be great in a--in a superhero pack, right, um, Superman?" Derek stares and Stiles raises his eyebrows before clenching his teeth and lifting one hand sharply.

Brown eyes stare into hazel, and Derek sighs and smiles tightly before relinquishing the boy, who is dark-haired and large-eyed, with a ruffle of his hair. His low voice is choked, rumbling "You take care of yourself, okay, Scott? You and your mom. Promise." The kid nods with either awe or terror in his eyes. Could be both, if Stiles is being honest. He personally feels like he's gonna pass out as Derek adds "Good day, ma'am," nodding stiffly to the mom. "Come on Stiles," he snaps as his assistant waves and tries to smile. Gotta put the people at ease. 

Instantly after Stiles himself is NOT at ease as Superman wraps his arm around the thin man's waist, sending them both into the sky.

Stiles starts screaming and waving both arms frantically.

"Oh-- my-- god--! What, Derek, put me down, you can't just--"

"Shut up, we're almost back," the hero zooms through the air and to their base.

Derek punches through wood boarding up part of a window and tosses Stiles unceremoniously onto the floor before striding along with his cape trailing behind him majestically as though nothing untoward had happened.

The skinny young man rolls to his feet, pale features flushed. He jumps in front of the other man to tell him "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on--Derek, you can't just try to take people's kids. I mean I get that you miss Scott. I do too." _So much._ Thinking of his dear friend causes physical pain to stab at Stiles' heart. "But come on dude," Stiles pleads. "You might be the one superhero who ends up going to jail on kidnapping charges." Wouldn't that be just their luck too, with his dad being the police chief and all.

Derek's face falls and softens, then hardens. Stiles feels his own heart thud heavily with grief, but Derek just nods sharply and stalks out. Stiles twists his hands together and bounces on the balls of his feet. He never knows if Derek really listens to anything said or not; if he feels things, if he allows himself to feel; or if he just grunts and files stuff into his brain to brood over and grumble manfully about.

But whatever the case, SuperDerek now has his collection of Scotts that he knows. And Stiles stays in the background chucking grenades at villain vans. Most of the time. Derek keeps growling at him to stop doing so, Stiles is meant to stay behind the scenes completely, doesn't he understand?! His dad wants him safe! Stiles gets all offended: "Derek, I am trying to save YOUR life too, man!"

Derek rolls his eyes. "Really? And don't call me Derek out here, I need to have a secret identity."

"Yeah, oh. Riiight," Derek glowers and Stiles eventually sighs. "Fine, fine. I'll just call you Super D then."

"You do and I'll murder you."

Stiles whistles. "Wow the transition from hero to villain can happen super quick, dang."

It is Derek who now sighs. "Just-- stay behind me next time, please?" The other looks away, manufacturing (or meaning) nonchalance until Derek looms close, staring him down. _"Stiles."_

"Ugh. Fine! You sound just like my dad," he grumbles. "Except he'd lock me up with his handcuffs so I couldn't even come."

"Think he probably had the right idea," Derek mutters, which would be hurtful, but Stiles sees a tiny smile flash across his companion's ever-serious countenance. It's there and gone, but hey, at least it happened. Small victories. "Plus," the burly superhero shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but those were-- they were actually pretty decent grenades."

Stiles' smile looks too large for his face. "Seriously? You liked 'em? Oh, that's great, 'cause I've got so many more ideas...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason Derek is attached to kids, particularly kids with the name Scott. Ooh backstory alert!
> 
> Comments appreciated :)


	3. Art Far More Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for blood and a medical emergency described below.

Stiles has a lot of ideas that work pretty well during battles and whatnot, but the ideas he comes up with before and after aren't always so great.

Case in point, he often really does forget to say Superman. He keeps yelling "What's up Derek?" when he's out and sees Derek flying to help someone. Then tries to cover for himself with ridiculous wordplay "Oh wait shoot I mean derekshion-- uhhh Superman's going in that direction guys!" 

Derek cocks his eyebrows in vintage long-suffering superhero to sidekick fashion and mouths sarcastically "Nice save." 

Stiles beams and then his smile disappears as he lifts a hand and waves awkwardly.

***

It is late one night when one of the ideas--or rather, the inception of an idea gets tested. Derek is Superman with lycanthropy, after all. He still turns on the full moon, and Stiles has been working extra hard to find something, anything, that can keep his friend sane enough to save people even when he's "wolfy" (as Stiles refers to Derek's lycanthropic state after getting chastised for using the word lycanthropy. It takes too long to say, apparently). Derek always groans or sighs but tells him to keep searching, because that would probably help.

Yet somehow, the lycanthropic --wolfy-- information gets out.

Stiles has his screen up, tons of notes projected onto the wall from his computer and he's scribbling madly, coming up with a concoction a la something Scott's old boss might use as a veterinarian, and he hears a slamming door that tells him Derek must be back. He never can show up silently after a fight, always has to make an entrance. "How'd it go today, big guy?" Stiles calls, and then there is silence, before scraping precedes Derek falling through the door of the lab, holding one arm. Stiles lunges over "Derek--"

"...Wolfsbane," the superhero groans, pale and sweaty and clutching his upper arm where his uniform is ripped and an ugly mass is already bleeding and oozing grey lines. "And--kryptonite. Someone knew. Hunter."

A hunter. Oh, shit. Stiles instantly thinks of Allison, his friend and Scott's first love. Her family has some, well, black sheep might be an understatement. They are werewolf hunters though, and if some villain found out about wolfsbane-- "What the hell, how'd they know to use BOTH those things in this bullet? That's super messed up."

"Stiles--" Derek hisses through gritted teeth. "Stop...talking. You've got to-- get it out." His pupils are dilated, breaths coming short. He is grunting, growling almost as he tries to handle the pain. But his arm is freezing and also burning. He staggers, falls to his knees. The bane encased the bullet and it must have been hollow tipped to get into his bloodstream so quickly. He was lucky he could move fast enough to get back here.

Stiles is shaking. This sucks. "No really man, that's the most messed up thing ever, how they got you. Was it from far away? Whoa!" he grabs and loops Derek's hale arm around his shoulders. Does his best to lift and carry, more like drag, his larger friend into the next room where a steel table and medical instruments for cleaning, suturing, and otherwise are. This was a science lab that had been partially converted into a makeshift hospital. Something Derek had demanded to patch himself up after fights, but Stiles actually almost rejected because he admits he's squeamish. At least about things like this.

His stomach lurches now as he remembers another time when Derek got hit just by wolfsbane--and if Scott hadn't showed with the antidote in time, Derek would've forced Stiles to cut off his arm, and he doesn't need that much responsibility, ever.

But he's got to do something now.

He helps Derek to a chair and grabs a stretchy bit of bandage. "This is the one time a tourniquet works," he gulps. "I, uh, hope it does. I need to get to more of your arm--" Stiles doesn't have the chance to finish before Derek is doing that changing-costume thing. Except he isn't in a phone booth and has no clothes save for underpants with little designs on underneath his suit. He is so close to naked, jeez. Probably getting cold, at the very least... Stiles blinks. "Uhh, Derek--"

Derek growls and sways and so Stiles stops whatever he'd been about to say, tying the bandage around his friend's gigantic deltoid muscle instead, holy crap it's huge! Before grabbing alcohol and tweezers and a clean towel as well as a scalpel to cut the bullet out. His hands are shaking as he pulls on sterile gloves and hopes he isn't going to throw up. That would cause some serious contamination here. So to try to distract himself as he sterilizes the scalpel and takes Derek's super gigantic arm in his hand, he continues "What I was saying is, like, no villain needs that much power, it'll end the show."

Derek stares at him, gasping a little. "What show?" He asks.

Stiles rolls his eyes even as he ducks close, tongue between his teeth. "The hypothetical television show that this is, duh. Where you're the badass broody hero with no time for love and I'm your moony sidekick nerd. Okay, I'm sticking this in, ugh." Derek clenches his fist and winces as the sharp blade goes into his arm, Stiles turning its tip to get underneath the bullet. "Come on, you hafta admit it's the perfect setup!" The young man gasps out. Trying so hard not to puke, he does his best to joke instead.

Derek groans. "On second thought, just leave me here to die...,"

"Nah, come on, I can't do that! What kind of tech nerd guru best friend would I be if I let you die?"

"I don't think... you're any of those things you think you are, Stiles," Derek grits. Stiles blinks, big brown eyes downcast as he flushes, the large mole on his neck standing out as he bows his head over Derek's arm wound and cuts carefully, blood oozing up. Derek realizes and shifts himself, free hand reaching across to grasp Stiles by the shoulder. "Hey, except best friend," he growls. "You're that… to me, okay?" Stiles stares at him. "But if you repeat those words to anybody, I will swear I was delirious with pain when I said them."

"Okay," Nodding. "I get it. Ya never said I was your best friend." He swallows hard to prepare himself to remove the bullet as he picks up tweezers and sterilizes them too. "I'm gonna keep saying it, though," he puts the tips to Derek's skin and pushes up on the bullet with the tip of the scalpel. Derek grunts in pain again as with a wet sound Stiles opens the tweezers, grasping the end of the bullet as he pulls it out. "Because I mean it, ugh --oh god-- and I'm not afraid to say, hang on that's a lot of blood, lemme get something; you're gonna need way more than a band-aid to patch this puppy up. But I want you to know," Stiles speaks seriously after he gets more alcohol and the antidote they'd stocked, just in case. He tosses the bloodied implements into the lab sink and grabs new gloves, getting Derek to hold a cloth against his arm before Stiles administers the antidote and bandages him up. Derek stares at him, still sweating slightly but his arm agony has eased. Stiles' voice catches as he says "You, Derek Hale, are MY best friend."

Derek swallows, blinking moisture out of his eyes. Totally a final result of the work Stiles did on his arm and definitely not from that sincere sentiment. Certainly isn't because he doesn't believe he deserves friendship, particularly from Stiles. Not after what he did. What he couldn't do. Banishing those thoughts Derek nods, jaw working, eyes glistening. 

"Thanks, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Derek's okay now! Poor squeamish Stiles
> 
> Now to find out who shot him, dun dun
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Moon Shines Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR DESCRIPTION OF PAST CHARACTER DEATH BELOW

There was a bright light in Derek's life once. Well, several lights, actually. He had his family, and his love, and he had Scott. Well. Found him. 

Scott was bitten, and that's an entirely different thing from being born a werewolf, as Derek was. He caught Scott's scent one night, the night he got the bite. And there was so much fear on Scott, but there was so much else, too. Something like sunshine, and life, and potential.

Derek knew a bit about potential. He thought he did, tried to take Scott under his wing, so to speak. Teach him, help him. Bring the kid into his pack. But he came on kind of strong, and when Scott got into Allison, well, all bets were off. 

And then her mother got involved…

_The receptionist at school, the room off the gym, the assembly area. Remembers a dance, a nighttime lacrosse game. Scott, his inhaler. He had asthma, and Allison's mother had put Wolfsbane into a mister…_

_Handcuffs, silver. Scott's terrified eyes, bright and then glazed and then darkening._

_No._

_"Your body is trying to change, to fight the bane, but you're dying," she told him. Taunted. "You'll never see my daughter again. You will not hurt her. I won't let you hurt her. This will be an accident." Her eyes were glittering. "So tragic."_

_Derek had howled, crashed through the door, ripped his claws down the woman hunter's arm, drawing blood, hitting bone. He'd lunged for Scott, who crumpled._

_No!_

_"Derek--"_

_Those gentle young eyes were so dark, so frightened. He'd reached out, and so had Scott, but he'd fallen before Derek could get to him. He wasn't breathing, wasn't--_

_"Come on, Scott," Derek had begged, dragging the boy out, laying him flat to begin chest compressions. Scott WAS a boy, then; hadn't finished high school yet. Wasn't even a senior. "Stay with me," He'd done CPR, and there came Stiles, gulping, gasping. Arms pinwheeling. He'd been Scott's best friend since preschool. Followed by Scott's mother, an emergency room nurse. She never got rattled, but that night she screamed, eyes as terrified as Scott's had been, they were the same rich dark color as his, but living--_

_NO!!!_

Derek shoots up, breathing heavily, fists clenched on either side of his head, pressing in. His nails dig into his palms deep enough to draw blood. Claws. He is a monster. Not a hero. No hero would have allowed that to happen. He does not deserve this power that he has been given. He does not deserve Stiles' friendship. 

Not after what he'd done, and what he had been unable to do.

He is a failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victoria Argent is... I haven't any words for her except one. The word that comes to mind is evil. And I do not care if she was trying to protect her daughter, you don't try to kill a kid.
> 
> This is my imagining of what would have happened if Derek hadn't gotten to Scott in time. Gosh, it hurts. I'm sorry
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	5. Take Thy Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs a friend
> 
> > Text messages after this

Stiles hears Derek fly off in the middle of the night.

Well, actually, they both sleep in one of the classrooms that has been converted into a sort of barracks, since this place is meant to house first responders during crisis situations or whenever overflow housing is necessary, such as during a big factory fire. That has happened before, just as the immense fire did that had taken out an ancestral home some years ago. Suffice to say there are several reasons Derek could be out flying around, and brooding over ...stuff. And well, that is only one of them.

Truth be told, Stiles wasn't sleeping too great even before he heard Derek up and about moving and shooting out of the place for a flight. That wolfsbane kryptonite bullet has been bothering him. The fact that someone would have to be a hunter or know enough about werewolf hunting to even get a bullet like that... And that's the wolfsbane part alone! The kryptonite has to come from someone who knows Superman's weaknesses, which could be any nerd, really, but Derek's wolfiness is not and has not been advertised.

Stiles does not like this. And as Derek's sidekick, assistant, resident nerd, but mostly as his friend--Stiles should be able to find out about threats like that. How could people know about Derek's other power? He goes out at times when he turns, but he's careful, even without Stiles having found something to help him control his mind during the turn yet. Living with lycanthropy one's whole life grants a certain gift for dealing with shit.

Another gifted individual is Lydia, and she knows Allison, the only link any of them have to hunters. Well, the only semi-sane link, at least. Stiles doesn't feel comfortable talking to Allison directly though, not since, well. Scott was the love of her life. He doesn't know if that could be considered a thing, they met when they were both fifteen, got together at sixteen after the school dance, officially, but it seemed like more than just a typical high school love story. Stiles had seen plenty of those, rife with dramatic crying matches and breakups and getting back together, all in the space of forty-five minutes in the cafeteria. This had not been that. Scott and Allison really loved each other, and a first love ending like it did, like that, for her--well Stiles hasn't got the guts to call her up and see how she is.

Truthfully, she scares him a little. And her father scares him a lot, particularly after what went on-- the stuff that went down with her mom, but Stiles shakes that memory off for now, it's just too awful. He has to help Derek. Besides, he should have called Lydia before, they're friends now, it's not like she ignores him or pretends he doesn't exist anymore. 

Stiles takes out his phone and sends a text message, since it IS past midnight, after all. 

> Hey Lydia. U awake?

There is less than a minute before her returning text sound chimes back.

> Wow...up from the deep state, it's Stiles friggin Stilinski. I'm amazed you still have my number.

Another chime precedes > Also, yes, I am. 

> I always knew u were smart but im amazed ur this much of a smart aleck, Lyds

> I learned it all from you ;P

> thats so flattering, omg. I may cry

> Shut up, Stiles. Is there a reason you're texting me out of the blue like this?

> What, can I not say hey to a friend?

> You CAN, but it's a little suspicious when we haven't spoken since... When was it?

Stiles gulps, fingers fumbling across his phone. > It was-- after the funeral, wasnt it?

There is a pause between texts and Lydia's next says > That's right. Oh, Stiles, I'm sorry, I'm such a bitch, I should've asked how you've been.

> What? No, Lydia ur fine. Im the one who hasnt called or been around

> No it's really not, because I know why you haven't. And you're with Super Wolf. How is he, by the way? How are YOU?

> Well about that...

> What's wrong, Stiles?

> What? Were good, whys something gotta b wrong?

> Stiles. If things were fine you wouldn't have contacted me at one in the morning.

> Banshee detective at work!

> All right then, smartass. Don't make me come down there, my power won't stop me from murdering you.

> Okay fine, dang. I got a question. U still talk w/ Allison, right?

> Yes we get dinner every week after classes, why?

> Aw thats sweet. U guys are cute. I totally should get invited

> If you don't tell me what you're trying to tell me, I won't invite you to anything, ever.

> Ouch that's cold. Well I actually wanted to know if any of her... relatives are around. The crazy ones

> Oh, god. What happened, Stiles?

So Stiles informs her of the close call and Derek's arm, what he had been hit with. She is absolutely floored that he removed the bullet and patched Derek up without even barfing. > Yeah, i know its amazing. But can you please keep an eye on them? Or ask Allison... I dont wanna cause trouble but if her aunt or someone came to the city for a hunting convention, thatd be nice to know.

> I don't think hunters have conventions, Stiles. But I'll ask her.

> You're the best.

> I know :) we should actually catch up, though. Call me when you have some time to talk, okay? I'll let you know what I find. 

> Okay, Lydia. Thanks. Would, uh. Now be a good time to tell you--

> Get some sleep, Stiles.

> U dont even know what im gonna say!

> Yes, I do. And I'll talk to you, but later. Good night.

> Fine. Night, Lydia.

There is a pause and then

> Hey Stiles?

> Yep?

> Thanks for texting. I... It's really good to hear from you. I mean it.

> Awww Lyds if I didnt know better id think this means u care about me!

> You're such an idiot. Go to sleep.

> Yes ma'am, good night <3

> Good NIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Stiles are putting their heads together! I really liked their friendship development in the show :) and I needed to write this after last chapter
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	6. The Very Error

The error was that Stiles wanted to handle things himself.

He got a frantic text from Lydia that said > YES, Allison's aunt AND grandfather heading out of town to the city !!!

> What city? Stiles had asked. He imagines Lydia's eyes, huge, features so incredibly pale as she shrieks her response. Even paler than usual, she's got such perfect skin-- snap out of it, Stiles, his brain snarls.

> I don't know, what city do you THINK, Stiles?!? 

> Okay that was dumb, jeez. But u dont have to yell @ me!

> Fine. Fine! Allison says don't worry, she's coming. She'll talk to her dad because he came to try to lessen the damage. 

> Think hell help? 

> I don't know, Stiles-- I hope he can calm them down, though.

> Are they after Derek again???

> Probably, you know how it is. They wanted to get the whole family. Kate wanted to get the whole family.

> Ugh. I cant believe Derek actually dated her, why

> I'll give you two guesses why. Just think about it, Stiles.

> Okay, yep, I just did. 

> And?

> And heck no, I still dont friggin get it, shes crazy!

> Some guys like that! She also may have been adept at hiding it. But seriously, come on. Okay, why did you get such a big crush on me in like what, second grade?

> Whoa, hey. Thats comPLETELY different

> Well then why is it? What'd you like? Come on, Stiles. Spit it out.

Stiles stares at his phone, hands slipping and heart hammering. He swallows. Knows he isn't going to be able to type all this via text, so he presses the call button before he chickens out.

The phone rings once before a seemingly surprised "Hello? Stiles?" 

"Hi, Lydia." Stiles squeaks. He's actually pretty sure he's going to pass out. This was a terrible idea. "Hey! Hi, I. Well you asked why I liked you so uhhh, yeah. Okay." He clears his throat noisily and blurts "… I could tell from the beginning how smart you are. You had everyone else fooled, but not me. They saw a popular princess, I saw the girl who could get into Yale without batting an eye. You always acted so confident in school, and even if you weren't no one knew it. You brought people together. I mean it was the popular people mostly but they all wanted something, some'a that Norma Jean charisma you got. Effortless. You never seemed afraid of anything people said to you. I don't know, I freak out a lot, so it was cool that you weren't afraid. I always imagined you destroying people with a look. Just, like, staring at them and BAM they'd go up in flames. You're a badass, Lydia. And not like the obvious kind like Allison. You're a badass of the mind and spirit. So. Yeah. That's what I've always liked about you." Stiles' voice cracks, of course. Can't be suave or anything. "What I-- what I still do."

Lydia is lost for words. This doesn't prove her point about Kate Argent at all. She coughs, pushes hair behind her ear as she sinks down onto her bed. "That… Stiles, wow."

"Yeah. Can you, uhm, still be friends with me after that? Are we cool?"

"I--" Lydia shakes her head and blinks rapidly. "Yeah, of course! We're cool, but. Norma Jean? Really?"

"Marilyn Monroe's real name was Norma Jean. Haven't you heard the Elton John song about her?"

"Uh, duh, Stiles, of course I have. I just wondered why you would-- why you compared me to Norma, not Marilyn."

Ah. Stiles taps his fingers on the table. Derek comes walking in and gives him a sharp look, eyebrows cocked. Stiles makes a face back at him before rubbing his hair and saying "Because you've never been, you've never tried to be anyone but yourself."

Lydia's voice is now incredibly small. "Oh."

After more silence, which is super awkward for Stiles, he's gotten all sweaty, she blurts out that when Allison comes she is probably going to try and tag along, so she tells him not to do anything stupid, like go looking for the Argents on his own.

Stiles decides, subsequent to saying goodbye to her, it is actually an amazing idea for him to gather reconnaissance on the crazy hunters. Plus, he knows them, at least a little. Saw Gerard at Allison's mother's funeral, which was right after--no nope come on Stiles, focus on the present. He's going to find the Argents and figure out how to stop them from poisoning Derek, because now that someone already tried doing that, they have no more antidote.

So Stiles sneaks out after doing some searching on the police department database (after offering many nonverbal apologies to his dad for hacking in. Well, not even hacking, he just knows his father's password. It's his mother's name). Stiles discovers that this family had rented a place on the other side of the city. They aren't going by Argent, but Kate blew through a red light late at night when they got here, and the cameras at the intersection got a shot of her face, driving a dark sedan with old white-hair Gerard in the passenger seat.

Stiles finds their address since she paid the fine for running the light only after the police sent it to where she was living. So he has the address and his Jeep, and one night when Derek is out saving the world (otherwise he would definitely forbid Stiles from going) he drives across the city and parks by the place wherein half of the remaining Argents are living and doubtlessly plotting to murder his best friend.

He settles in with Gatorade and beef jerky and comics and binoculars, as well as his sleuthing playlist (which includes "I Wear My Sunglasses At Night" and "Private Eyes", everything you need to conduct an awesome stakeout) to lie in wait. Is there for three hours and fifteen minutes, and REALLY has to pee, when he hears a knocking on his window and his name is called.

"What are you doing, Stiles?" 

The young man gulps and looks up through the front side window of his beloved Jeep. Into the intensely frowning face of Allison's dad, Christopher Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well Stiles is trying to protect Derek and has thus done a really dumb thing. Other people will have a lot to say (and do!) about it.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	7. Her Pale Fire She Snatches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Argents
> 
> GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION AND DEATH THREATS BELOW

"Oh my god!" Stiles yelps. He debates flooring the gas, but he'd turned his car off for the stakeout and now his hands are shaking so badly he drops his keys. Maybe if he crouches on the floor and stays especially, super still, Argent will go away…

"Stiles. I can still see you," the rough sound of Argent's voice contains the resignation in regard to ridiculousness that Stiles is incredibly used to, as his dad has that same sound every day. But said voice grows steely: "Get out of the car. Now."

Stiles gulps. "How about, no thanks?" He squeaks. 

Christopher Argent rolls his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Says a guy who TOTALLY would, and whose family hurts people on a daily basis," Stiles retorts, amazed at his own daring. He rolls down his window. "You guys make a living of hurting. I mean, should I remind you what your sister did? What your _wife_ did?" His voice is cracking and his hands are shaking as he clutches the steering wheel, glaring at Chris. "And now you're here trying to hurt another one of my best friends! I don't care how awesome your daughter is, you-- the rest of your family is messed up, all right? And you say you hunt the monsters." Stiles gulps and gasps and looks down, blinking back tears. "You ARE the monsters."

Chris Argent flinches, eyes filling with agony even as his jaw tightens. "Stiles--"

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" A drawling older male voice and the man to whom it belongs comes up to the other side of Stiles's Jeep, smiling at him. "Hello there, boy." His eyes grow steely. "Now I'm gonna need you to get out of that car, slowly, with your hands up. And you're going to hand your keys over to--"

"--Me," the smokey voice and crooked nose, long hair and bright smile of Kate Argent appear in front of him. She had come out of the house and now holds out her hand, palm up. "I'll take care of it for you. Stiles, right? You're, you were Scott's little friend." 

Stiles grits his teeth and snarls at her "Don't you say his name. And I know you shot Derek, you--" he sputters and spits "You are not a cool aunt at all!"

"Ooh, a feisty one," she laughs. "You're way more fun than Derek already. He just stared at me when I shot him. And yes, you're right, I shot him. Now come on, out you get," her voice is now soft and dangerous. "Unless you want me to peel you out of that car after I shoot you. Wouldn't want to present such a sight to my father, though. He's a little older," she tilts her head and bunches up her lips.

"I have a delicate constitution," Gerard says, baring his teeth in a grin that shows pointy canines. God, Stiles hates his voice. No old man should be evil, it's just wrong. "Just like you do, am I right?"

Stiles looks from him and Kate to Chris, who looks agonized. Pained. "Come on, Stiles," he speaks softly. "I can get you home."

"Ohh, I'm afraid it's too late for that, Chris. He knows," Kate puts a pistol in Stiles's face. "Now you are coming with us, or I am blowing your brains out. I'm sure you're wolfish enough by now, been hanging out with them. With one in particular quite a bit, right?" Her eyes are twinkling maliciously, and Stiles feels his stomach clench, curling and making him feel sick. But he does his best to lift his chin. He is not ashamed of hanging out with Derek, caring about him. Nor had he been ashamed of Scott, who was as oppositional to a monster --in every single way-- as you could possibly get. Stiles expels a tiny sound, he cannot help it. Kate's lips curl as she adds "...Oh and once we move this car, you're trespassing. You're intruding. And I'm thinking it's perfectly within our rights to shoot an intruder on our property, who's going to break into our house with a weapon." She waves and cocks her gun. "Now, MOVE."

Stiles gulps and feels a rifle stock jab into his ribs as Gerard says "Best listen to my daughter, son. She isn't kidding." Stiles yelps as Gerard jabs him again and then fumbles to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out.

"You guys are crazy," he says, fingers closing around the keys of his Jeep. "And you're not getting my Roscoe. You'll have to pry these keys from my cold dead hands."

Kate smiles coldly in her turn. "Ha ha, fair enough, Stiles." She leans in and stares at him. "And you know," she rears back and pistol-whips him, full in the face, bloodying his nose and hitting his temple next, knocking him out. Chris catches the young man as he falls limp and crumples, holding him carefully. "In a world that's crazy, I'm perfectly sane." She starts humming as Gerard comes around the car and kisses her on the cheek, prying the keys out of Stiles's now-slack fingers. 

"That's my girl. Here," he tosses the keys to her. "Get him into the house," he snaps at Chris. "I'm coming with you. Kate, honey, park this in our garage. Wouldn't want to keep it out here in anyone's way." He smiles again, baring those canines. "Christopher, come on. And if you don't," he cocls his rifle, "I will shoot this boy in the leg, and then the back, so he won't escape even if you help him. Is that clear?"

Chris feels his legs shaking as he clutches Stiles close in his arms as carefully as he can. He has never hated this family more, and what it does. He is exponentially grateful Allison isn't here. His heart thuds painfully. "Crystal clear, Father."

"Good. Off we go!"


	8. Ebb and Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a worrisome realization

Derek doesn't know what first clues him in. 

He's flying above the clouds, ducking into them-- good thing about being a werewolf is he doesn't get cold in his super suit up in the air especially when he's turned; he is warm and snug under all his fur-- but something arrests him in place. Something hits him in the chest, not literally, but a feeling. As if a hand has squeezed his heart. He needs to go back to base. There isn't anything going down right now anyway, he'd flown the long hose up to a thirteenth-story window for the fire department and held its several thousands of pounds of water pressure steady to put the fire out, so it has been a good morning. He can head back for a bit.

Flying to the entrance of the school, Derek passes a trail of cops who'd come in "Got a fugitive situation," one of them says. "Armed and dangerous."

"Is this new?" Derek asks. "A-- new development in a case, Officer?" He winces inwardly, wishing Stiles was out here with him to vocalize (and translate) police-speak with his exuberance and ability to babble. Most of the cops don't talk to Derek, but this one is one of the few who, like Sheriff Stilinski, tolerates him, at least. Has an open face, serious. Good at his job. Derek honestly wonders what it would be like if this guy worked with him rather than Stiles. Although it's useful (and helpful) to have an assistant with a gift for gab. Even when it's annoying as hell.

This cop, Deputy Parrish, introduces himself and shakes Derek's hand as he says-- "I'll keep you up to speed, Superman. Thank you for joining us out here, soldiers at home," and heads down the front steps down the street back to the precinct. Derek squints up at the door. Something is missing. At this point a very loud someone, waving arms and leaping at him to show off some new concoction and to ask how'd the hero work go? Save any lives? Should be charging down the stairs right about now. But this time there is nothing. No one. _Stiles._ Derek pushes through the door with his forearm and heads down to the workroom.

"Stiles!" 

He pokes his head first into the lab, then the bedroom in case the kid was taking a nap, the computer room, the bullpen (or what passes for one for cops and first responders when they're here) but apart from some bleary firefighters who have just come off shift, there is nobody else in the building. No problem, no worries, Derek reasons; Stiles probably went to grab a sandwich or something. He usually cooks food here, making some for the cops and firemen too, but perhaps they needed more. 

Derek jogs downstairs into the cafeteria, pulls open the fridge. It's fully stocked. He turns around, stroking his stubbly chin, thinking that he needs a shave, but will have to endure Stiles calling him a Ken doll because "Your face is too smooth! It looks like plastic whenever you shave, man, that's not normal!" 

"Maybe it's because I take care of my skin, Stiles."

"When do you do that? After your intense werewolf hair-care routine?"

Derek snorts and barks out a laugh he hadn't bothered vocalizing to Stiles. Can't let him get a big head by thinking he's funny. His smile melts away as he becomes certain that something is wrong. Call it whatever one wants, Derek can't help thinking what he is. He jogs into his bed space and changes his clothes. It's not really a bedroom because he doesn't do much sleeping, there or anywhere. Pulls on a navy blue shirt and jeans, slips his feet into boots and shucks on his leather jacket. If Stiles is out and about, he will be at one of a few spots.

Grabbing his phone off the counter next to the computer, Derek sees Stiles' phone, lit up with at least seven text messages. From Lydia Martin. He doesn't open the screen, but the notifications for the last four messages are up, and their contents put him on alert.

> Okay Allison and I are en-route. Allison says her dad got to the city last night after her aunt called him about a big hunt. Don't freak, we're coming.

> Don't do anything stupid, Stiles.

> Stiles, you'd better answer me so I know you're not being an idiot. Allison says her aunt's been really intense lately, and you and I both know how her granddad is. We can keep Derek safe, I promise.

> Okay this isn't funny anymore, you never ignore ONE text, much less four. Pick up your phone and call me back so I know you aren't being a dumbass.

As Derek stares at the phone, it receives another text.

> Stiles Allison just called her dad and he told her they've got you and he'd better be lying I swear to God

> You did something stupid didn't you?! DIDN'T YOU, STILES

> I'm calling you and you'd better pick up or I swear you'll wish they did have you

> Okay that's awful, I don't mean that. I'm sorry, Stiles. Please just be okay. I'm worried, Allison's worried. We're almost there, okay? You won't lose anybody else, I promise.

*Call from Lydia Martin*

Derek, breaths coming short and sharp and hard, slides the button to answer the phone and hears Lydia's frantic tone. 

"Stiles Stilinski, this better be some crazy game Allison's dad is playing, or I--"

"Lydia," Derek's voice is heavy, more gruff even than usual as he tries desperately to swallow a lump that is filling his throat. This is happening again, it can't be happening again. He cannot abide another failure. He cannot lose Stiles too. But he has to tell her the truth. And the truth is, "...This is Derek. Stiles isn't here."


	9. The Bigger Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with the Argents
> 
> WARNING FOR TORTURE BELOW  
> Kate Argent is awful and I absolutely loathe her

Stiles doesn't know how Derek ever handled this.

Getting chained to walls and beaten up and everything, when he was just a werewolf-- and then he had gotten superpowers, which help him a lot, honestly, because he is strong enough to snap chains and leap tall buildings and all that other crazy over-the-top stuff Superman does. Which is great, just. Now these assholes know about the kryptonite.

And Stiles knows about them.

A cut burns at the corner of his lower lip, which is swollen, and it feels like his heart is pounding in his left temple AND his nose at once, which has gotta be some kind of record. He also feels the cold drip of blood, and tastes iron as it definitely drips down the back of his throat, and if he touched his mouth and chin Stiles knows he would come away with scarlet hands and then almost definitely be sick. 

It would be great if Kate Argent would get close to his face precisely at that moment so he could throw up on her. Serve her right, but no such luck. She's over here saying that she's going to do worse, way worse things to Stiles if he doesn't explain what antidotes there are for kryptonite so she can make proper precautions next time, since clearly Derek isn't dead. Gerard stands back like a creepy ghost in the corner and smirks. Stiles scoffs. Clearly Kate thinks she's Scarecrow or something, has the monopoly on fear. But if she thinks that about herself, Stiles is the Riddler. He tells her she obviously doesn't read enough comic books. "You aren't cool enough, so I'm not going to tell you. It's a nerd thing," he is proud of himself for that, looking up at her with a little smile. 

But then she nods and laughs and swings her head away, hair rippling. "Okay then." 

Suddenly her fist is in his diaphragm and he's gasping for air. Falling forward, croaking "Oh, god, what the hell was that?" High-pitched and defeated as she takes his face between her fingers and squeezes.

"That's nothing. All of this is nothing. You're going to be chained up--" she grabs a pile of thick metal chains and yanks both of his arms behind him, wrapping the chain around and extending it to lock on a rivet in the wall. How they had time to install all this Stiles doesn't know. Must be nice to remodel, his dad always said they needed to do that in their house, but not with friggin CHAINS IN THE BASEMENT! Stiles focuses and hears Kate giggle now as Gerard walks up the stairs "--and no doubt one or all of your little friends will come to try and save you. How many are left, Stiles?"

Low blow, lady. Low freaking blow. "Your niece," he spits, blood in his mouth and on his teeth, spraying into her face. "Allison is my friend. And she knows all about you."

Kate smiles, but it's smaller, colder. It slips as she slowly, deliberately wipes her face free of drops of blood. "Allison is family," she says.

"Yeah, so that means she knows all your secrets, and exactly how crazy you are." Stiles looks up and sees Chris Argent standing silently on the basement stairs listening. He had passed his father. "She's a badass, too. Way more than you are, I mean, come on, the way she shoots that bow? That's awesome. She'll do anything for her friends too, and the most important thing is, she knows right from wrong. She knows what she's doing. She protects people who can't protect themselves, like me, hah." Stiles allows for a little self-deprecating joke. "But this means you aren't gonna get another shot at Derek because she's coming with her badass bestie, and they are going to tear this place up." Stiles squeaks at his own daring, about to throw up, but he breathes and manages "--You won't do to Derek what you did to his family. I-- we won't let you."

"Oh, really?" Kate slams Stiles back into the wall so hard that agony shoots down both of his arms and from his spine like lightning and he crumples to the floor. But he can tell he got to her. "Just watch me, little boy," she snarls as she storms back up the stairs. Gerard smirks and follows.

"'Little boy'? Wow, what a great insult! You should be on the Roast with that! Ahhh," Stiles drops the act as the door slams above and curls onto his side, whimpering. "Ah, shit, that really hurts."

"I bet it does," a rough voice precedes corded but gentle hands on his shoulders, a shadow kneeling down. "Lie still." Too late, Stiles yelps and jerks, wrenching his back and crying out, trying to lift himself. One warm hand presses to his spine in the center where the agony is radiating out from, and the other holds his shoulder. "I'm making you a brace, hang on." The shadow stands and turns and breaks something with a loud snapping sound that makes Stiles flinch and whimper.

"Oh my god," he moans as the shadowy figure turns back again and kneels, taking out a silver knife that gleams in the tiniest shaft of light. "If you're gonna kill me, go ahead and do it, okay? Just know that I demand a badass Viking funeral. What--ow!" He is being rolled over onto a wooden rectangle, and there is a ripping sound and long swathes of cloth are being looped through a knife-hole on each side of the wood, crossing in an X over Stiles' chest and being knotted tightly. 

"It's a thin bit of wood," that voice and a grizzly face appear in the light. Chris. "But it should hold, if you stay still. Nothing seems broken. Kate won't be at you for a bit now, you got under her skin when you made her angry just then." He nods sharply and offers a hand. "I'll get more news to my daughter as soon as I can. She and Lydia have arrived."

Stiles' eyes widen. "Really?" Then he leans back, withdrawing his hand, as he had been about to take Chris's. "Why should I believe you about that, huh? This could be a sick game you guys are playing, winding me up, giving me hope. I've seen hostage movies, which I'm not gonna be able to watch anymore…," he mumbles the last.

Chris shakes his head and sighs, looping Stiles' arm around his neck and lifting the young man carefully to help him sit. "Because you're right. I'm doing this because you're a good kid, and you're right about my daughter. She is a true hunter, one who protects the weak and hunts real monsters. And you're right about us," Chris adds, his voice wrecked now. "I'm ashamed that I didn't realize until Victoria…" his voice cracks and breaks off completely. He clears his throat and adds "Well it's too little too late, but I'm going to help you, Stiles. You don't deserve this." And so much softer as he jogs back up the stairs, so quiet that Stiles isn't certain that he hears him, Chris Argent adds "The rest of this family, we have to be stopped." He looks back down at the young man, gaze broken, eyes sad. "I'll...try and get you something," he says. "To eat, or..." he seems so helpless. "Just--hang tight."

Stiles snorts but nods. Hang tight, alright. What else is he going to do?


	10. And How The Less

Allison Argent stares Derek Hale down. 

He'd talked on the phone to Lydia --well, more like had his ears assaulted with her enraged shrieking, and now he's at the door of their building having had it banged on sharply and here stands Allison, dark hair pulled back, gloves and boots on. She hasn't got her bow out (since it's the middle of the afternoon and people are everywhere) but may as well have, and those intense eyes are staring into his with as much distrust and nearly as much devastation as the last time they saw each other, which Derek tries so hard not to remember. Not now. 

It helps a bit that Lydia is still freaking out at him.

"What do you mean, he's missing? Stiles can't be MISSING! He's gotten captured by crazy hunters, no offense, Allison," Lydia flicks her eyes to the other girl's face, and her friend jerks her chin down in a nod, though she refuses to take her own gaze off Derek.

"None taken, Lydia."

"Well, good. Whew. Now can we come inside and quite wasting time?! Because if we're going to do something about this we need to do it fast before the police start going out to put Stiles' stupid face on milk cartons." She sniffles and Derek thinks she's about to cry, but instead Lydia Martin tosses her long auburn hair at him and snaps "So I suggest you get out of the way so we can get going, Derek Hale!"

"You heard her," Allison's tone of voice is clipped and cold. "Stiles is _our_ friend."

The insinuation present in that statement makes Derek lift his brows and press his lips together to stop a growl. But he cannot retract his anger. His upper lip starts to curl. "Oh, yeah?" He snarls at her, face close to hers in challenge. Allison doesn't flinch. "Well great, glad he's got Robin Hood and Maid Marian coming to his rescue. What do you think I am, being here with him for months? Holding onto him at night when he thrashes and screams..." Derek croaks on that a bit, recalling on early night when he'd had to run into Stiles's room and physically restrain him as he cried out Scott's name. They've never outright talked about it, but Derek knows Scott dying is an even bigger blow to Stiles than it would be to most, as he'd also lost his mom sudden when he was young. He was supposed to be safe, Derek was supposed to keep Stiles safe.... Shaking his head to try and clear it, Derek continues speaking: "He's been living with me, coming up with gadgets and concoctions to save my ass! He's goofy and annoying as all hell but he's got the biggest heart of anybody I know. And I'm sorry for how things went down with Scott, and your mom," Allison's breath hitches and she narrows her eyes "But I swear I'm not losing another person, I'm going to bust my ass to find Stiles and get him back safe. I won't let another parent lose their kid." His voice wobbles and then his features grow impassive as he straightens up. "So either you respect my presence in this fight you're planning, or you get back in your car and leave. I can go save Stiles' skinny ass myself."

Lydia mouths 'wow' with a snort and Allison's eyes soften the tiniest bit. She looks at Lydia and then back to Derek. "Okay," she says softly but firm. Sticks out her hand. "We have a deal." As Derek takes her hand and shakes it, she leans in and then moves past him with "but just so you know, you're going to need me. My aunt plus my grandpa equals a whole barrel full of psychotic behavior." 

Lydia nods as she comes in as well, wearing a tight smile. "Yeah. You don't even know." She puts her hand on Derek's arm as he closes the door behind them and Allison cases the hallway. "We're going to get him back to you," she assures. "Promise." 

Derek nods, muscles jumping in his arms with how tight his body is clenched. "Good. Otherwise his father will kill me, powers or no powers." He strides forward and starts leading them through the place, heading to Stiles' lab. Certainly it will contain something to assist them. Or at least it should, if Mister Sidekick Tech Guru Best Friend is worth his salt. "So," Derek calls back in sardonic deadpan Hale fashion: "What's your fantastic rescue plan, ladies?" 

"Umm, well," 

"We're actually still working that out." 

Flying by the seat of their pants. No wonder they're friends with Stiles. Derek rolls his eyes. "Well since you barged in here I suppose I'll hafta help you out with it. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the gang is here to save Stiles, woo! What's Sheriff Stilinski gonna say? Will he find out his son is missing? Who knows....
> 
> Comments welcome :)


	11. Must For Aye Consort With Black-Brow'd Night

The sheriff feels restless. Something isn't right. He'd talked with Parrish earlier, who said Hale seemed like a solid sort, if a bit distracted. Made sense, given he'd just come back from a job and had officers swarming and saying there was a criminal at large.

Stilinski sighs and puts his head in his hands, running fingers through his hair. The deaths don't make any sense. 

Neither does the way the corpses look, to be honest. He got some weird stuff back in Beacon Hills, but was able to wave it off as small-town stuff, people getting a little crazy around the full moon.

But now he finds it also happening here, in maybe lesser numbers, but less than a week ago they've started to increase. And these are younger victims. Teenagers, college kids. People close in age to his own son.

Maybe that's what's got him so riled up and rattled over this. That, and the strange striations of black tracing underneath the victims' skin. Extending from the bullets, because they get shot. They always get shot, and the bullets are silver, hollow-tipped, with some sort of residue inside.

"Chief, we just got a readout from the lab," Parrish says, knocking on the sheriff's open door before sticking his head in. "Not your son's, he was out, apparently. Sent it over, and ...well I think you're going to want to take a look at this before you give us our next move."

Stilinski sighs and beckons to his second in command. "Okay, hand it here, Deputy." Parrish does, and as he looks over the report, reading it once and then again, all the color drains out of the sheriff's craggy face. He prides himself on his ability to remain calm; the officers crack that he's had a lot of practice with that son of his-- but right now, what he's looking over is nuts. And someone he's certain knows about this is "What the hell-- _STILES!_ "

***

"You're a friggin genius, Stiles."

Lydia and Allison are wide-eyed as Derek rifles through notes in Stiles's lab, shifting paperwork around to see if any of Stiles's crazy ideas might actually be useful. His back stiffens straight as Allison, after slowly walking around, sees a stitch in the wall, a space behind a cabinet that looks like it's got a hinge. "What's this?" She pulls it open to find first a sticky note in a drawer that reads in Stiles' scrawl: Inventions, and then Super Suits. Underneath, folded carefully, are garments labeled with names. Super D, Badass A, and Lyd on the B, beside which there is a little squiggle that looks suspiciously like a heart. Allison smiles a bit as Lydia clears her throat and shoves things out of the way.

"Look there's more-- he made you some gauntlets to hold extra arrows and sheaths for knives, ammo, and bullets!" Lydia lifts the sleek dark outfit out of the drawer for Allison, a tough looking darkly camouflaged bunch of gear. "...Did he think we were all gonna end up here somehow?" She mutters, pushing hair behind her ears as she ducks and sees some more patterns after tossing Derek his. "Super D," she smirks.

Derek rolls his eyes and sighs, his hands stilling on the thick cloth _"Because spandex might be a look, but it is so not breathable, man!"_ He remembers Stiles saying. _"Please, lemme look into some cotton or something with movement for you to wear."_ Of course Derek had shut him down, sworn he was being ridiculous. Had said "Shut up, Stiles". And yet here was this suit that had cloth soft enough to sag away when Derek turned and his body fused differently, when he grew fangs and talons and hair. 

Lydia's eyes are shining now as Stiles had crafted a darkly shimmering green outfit for her, a la Poison Ivy, but tasteful. Carefully covering her shoulders, and with a high neckline to protect her throat. It is soft inside, but the material is Kevlar. She'd seen and felt some when she went to the precinct in Beacon Hills before Stiles's dad came here. "Wow," she whispers, catching Allison's eyes as the dark-haired girl pulls her gauntlets on. "...He really missed us, didn't he?" She shifts the cloth and finds another post-it note with more writing on it. _Just in case._ A lump comes to her throat. "Oh, Stiles...,"

"Hey." Face set and eyes flashing, Allison puts a hand on Lydia's shoulder and holds on tightly. "We're going to get him back. Right, Derek?" She looks over and he gives them both a firm nod.

"Absolutely." 

All three look at each other and then hear loud banging and crashing down the hallway, footfalls echoing and a familiar, exasperated, worried-bordering-on-terrified voice calls "STILES! Mieczyslaw Stilinski, where are you?!"

Before the three can gather their faculties or even think of hiding their newly-discovered suits away, Sheriff Stilinski charges around the corner, wild-eyed face framed in the open doorway with Deputy Parrish by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is sentimental and he missed his friends okay, there wasn't any weird plan or Deus ex machina, he just got on a whole World of Warcraft kick in the real world and started drawing up (and making) the best battle suits for his friends
> 
> And Sheriff Stilinski is about to NOT be pleased because he saw something on the lab work that reminds him of all Stiles' wacky books and games and horror movies...


End file.
